


The Psychology of Secrecy

by pwr



Series: College AU Humanformers [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers (IDW 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, CDRW are lesbians, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Gay Male Character, Humanformers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rung is closeted, This is a lot of vent about being gay, This one's about the old men, Trans Kup, Trans whirl, Whirls gaydar went off big time, no student/teacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2019-10-19 05:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17595308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pwr/pseuds/pwr
Summary: Doctor Rung is a psychology professor at the College of Knightston. He lives with his best friends, Kup and Ratchet, and all seems to be alright with him.Unless you look a little closer.You can always look a little closer.Especially if you've been where he is now.





	1. Fresh Beginnings; Spoiled Quickly

In the middle of the night, a man got out of his bed. He stumbled for his glasses, using his phone as a light. Turning on the bedside lamp, he pulled a book from his drawer and began to read.

His phone dinged. An email from a student. Header; ‘Important’. Sent by a freshman he did not recognize.

 

“my dude carl my man my absolute dude

my name on file is [__________] but call me whirl, she/her

dont get it mixed or i’ll get dr cy on your case

he knos my dad lol

mad respect

PS we got gay squad in E326 at 4 be there or be straight loser

-WHIRL”

 

Doctor Rung, a professor of psychology, was a bit taken aback by the message. It wasn’t strange for a student to contact him correcting a dead file, nor was it unusual for a student to address him by his first name.

It was strange, however, that this young lady had, perhaps accidentally, nailed something in particular on the head.

It looked to be an interesting semester.

 

—

 

The College of Knightston was not a particularly prestigious school. One could say it was average, not excellent, but not terrible. It had an alright acceptance rate, alright graduation rate.

But apparently, not good pay enough for three professors to afford rent separately. Well, two professors, and one freeloading roommate.

6 o clock, every morning, Kup’s alarm went off. A traditional folk song, not yet out of date, but old enough that Rung could never quite make out the tinny lyrics. Maximum volume. Then, Ratchet would slam open the door, and the following conversation usually went almost exactly like so;

“KUP. ALARM.”

“Yeah.”

It was usually the sudden quiet afterwards that woke Rung himself up. This morning, Rung found a book strewn across his bed, with his phone still on, open on the email from earlier.

He rose, combing through his thick, black-and-graying hair with his fingers. It took a moment for him to realize he was still wearing his glasses. Rung sighed, quickly dressed in a dress shirt, and peeked out of his room. Ratchet was making breakfast, and Kup seemed to be digging through her various weirdly specific cigars.

Ratchet was a particularly odd professor. He served as a medic for years on years, then when he was discharged for unclear reasons, he went back and studied long enough to teach. It all happened in the span of about 20 years, and that was only a fair dent in his life. He was battle scarred, scraggly, with a short, heavy body that was only recently catching up from years of worrying eating habits. His hair had long past gone white, grown long past his shoulders. Ratchet had sworn off cutting his hair short after years of a buzz cut. He was dutifully frying something.

Kup, on the other hand, retained a lot of her militant aesthetics. Heavier from pure muscle, tattoos and scars adorned her body, often interlacing into each other with scar art and cover ups. Definitely the taller of the three. Her hair long grayed as well, kept in a clean military-grade cut. Often rolling out of bed without any top on, Rung elected to avert his eyes. But, he still believed the classic sea monsters adorning her surgery scars were the best of all her body art. She pulled out a particular cigar, and turned to the window to light it.

Living with two veterans was awkward for Rung at times. Both were built for it, showing their history, while Rung remained as he was for years upon years; skinny, stressed, nerdy, and alone. Maybe not so alone now, but for a majority of his life it was true.

“Put a shirt on or I’ll push ya out that window.” Ratchet shouted at Kup, only getting a wheezing laugh in response.

Rung cleared his throat, and walked out of his room into the larger apartment space. He glanced down at the email still open on his phone.

“Are either of you familiar with a girl named ‘Whirl’?” Rung asked.

“Unfortunately. Why?” Kup was leaning out the apartment window at a fairly dangerous angle, smoking.

“She emailed me last night, she’s in my class.”

“God help you.” Ratchet laughed, “Don’t get too close to her, now.”

“Why not?” Rung slid Ratchet the salt for the eggs he was cooking.

“Kid’s got claws.”

“Ratchet, I know we may not be entirely up to date with this generation, but stereotyping women as catty-”

“Literally. She filed down the fingers on her prosthestics. She shook my hand at orientation.” Ratchet held up a hand, a few fresh scars over his decades others.

“I’ll never forget seeing her at that military enrollment event. She was asked to write an essay on why the military is essential to our safety.” Kup rolled her eyes, “She wrote ‘I want gun arms’ and turned it in.”

Rung drew his hand to his mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Anyways, pack on up, Eyebrows, you got a 7 am, right?” Kup, to Ratchet’s disapproval, walked back into the flat, cigar in mouth.

“Pack up? Are you driving?” Rung asked.

“Yeah, gotta refill and Walgreens is right on the way back.”

Rung grabbed his bag, double checking that the syllabus was up online as well as his printed copies.

“Get a top before you go.” Ratchet didn’t look over as he scolded.

Kup grinned, and threw an arm around Rung, “I’m right here.”

Kup was promptly hit in the head with a pepper shaker.

“I MEANT A SHIRT, YOU CRUSTY SHITFACE.”

 

\--

 

“And with that, I believe class is dismissed. Please make sure you’ve gotten the appropriate textbooks for this course, and contact IT if you have issues with the download codes.”

As students filed out of the hall, Rung began to put away his own laptop.

“Hey.”

He looked up to see a particularly flashy young woman leaned over his desk. Mid-tone brown skin, bright cyan hair up in twintails, one yellow eye, wearing overalls over a long striped red V-neck. She was pierced to the heavens, gauges, eyebrows, snakebites, and definitely others you couldn’t see immediately. One metal finger tapped on the desk, leaving a slight scratch upon impact.

“Ah. You must be Miss Whirl. I got your email.” Rung smiled, turning to face her.

“You’d think having someone in the system would get your name updated, right?” Whirl flashed a grin, and Rung swore he saw a couple shark-like modified teeth, “But yeah, thanks, bro. Carl. My bro.”

“You can just call me Rung, or Doctor, if you’d like.” He smiled nervously.

“Oh! Absolutely not. By the bi, you’re coming to the LGBT club thingy right?” Whirl suddenly shot up, shaking the desk slightly.

“Is that what you meant by ‘gay squad’?”

“Duh, what else would gay squad be? A squad of some, like, uh… NOT gays? You down?”

Rung shrank back a moment, looking desperately for an answer.

“Well, um, why did you want me there?” He tried.

Whirl blinked.

“You don’t need club supervision in college.” He tried again.

She stared blankly.

Rung was determined to get this answer right within the next… five minutes. There had to be something that didn’t make him look like an asshole, but also didn’t… well...

“Dude, if you don’t wanna be with the gays, you can just-”

“No! No, Whirl, that’s not it, I-”

“...That dude everyone calls ‘Teebs’ said he’d like to see you.”

“...That’ll do. I’ll come.” He sighed, sinking back into his chair, “But, again, why me?”

“Cy isn’t coming to pick me up for, like, at least an hour.” Whirl leaned in close, “And if that cute swim captain isn’t there, I’m gonna be alone with people I don’t know and the only other class today I had was yoga with that Drift dude, so you’re honestly my only fucking hope.”

Rung blanked for a moment, then smiled, placing a hand on Whirl’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you can trust me.”

 

\--

 

Whirl was already outside the room when Rung turned up, just a little after 4. Her attention snapped to him, and she ran over.

“She’s here, she’s here, oh my god, she’s totally here!” Whirl squeezed her claws together, “The swim captain’s here!”

Rung needed to say something encouraging. Something a girl her age could understand.

“...Well, I’d say that’s an epic win.”

Whirl kept smiling, but it looked like a part of her had suffered a very sudden, painful fatality.

“...Ok, let’s go inside and I’ll stop considering killing you right here for saying that!” Whirl grabbed Rung by the arm and pulled him into the lecture hall, currently occupied by various mingling students.

“We got new’uns!” One student announced.

Teebs was indeed there, hanging in the corner, swiping away at his phone.

Teagan Brakes, shortened to TB and eventually Teebs, was a janitor on campus. He proposed a ‘janitor squad’, consisting of him, a much older man named Tailgate, and a slightly younger man named Pipes. It seemed everyone was really dead set on the word ‘squad’ at this school. Teebs was a notorious alcoholic, and looked the part. Unkempt, messily shaven, always wearing a heavy leather jacket, he was pretty hard to miss.

“Aw shit, who brought a teacher?” A freshman, with deep tanned skin and tattoos of gills on her sides and neck, turned from speaking to a senior.

“Hey, it’s fine, that’s Doctor Rung. He’s cool. You’re in college now. Teachers are your friend.” The senior wasn’t very acquainted with Rung, but she turned and shot him a wink, before fixing the back poof of her blonde-purple ombre hair.

Whirl dragged Rung over to a table by the shark-tattooed freshman, Nautica, and another senior, an albino student with hair resembling an explosion and a flu mask covering his mouth. That was Brian Smith, who everyone called Brainstorm. Well, Brainstorm said that, but that’s because he wanted everyone to stop calling him Bull Shit.

“Hey doc.” Brainstorm shot him a look, “You got a phone?”

“Yes, my niece got me one last year.” He pulled it out, “It’s a little bit confusing-”

“He wants you to get Grindr.” Nautica interrupted, bonking her friend on the head with her fist.

“What’s Grindr?”

“He thinks if he gets enough people on campus on it, Percy will eventually download it.” A sophomore student sitting nearby, with dark skin and a bleached fade high top, shot finger guns at Brainstorm.

A taller, bulkier sophomore, with a buzzed down head and, for some reason, orange safety goggles, leaned over and whispered something to the shorter one.

Rewind and Chromedome, lesbian power couple.

Rewind, Cassie, earned her name infamously distributing footage of fights and teachers doing illegal things in high school. She also was ahead of all the styles, always rocking a crop top, high black tights over thigh high white boots. Never anything else. If it ain’t broke, Rung guessed.

Chromedome was a bit more of a cruel name, referencing her shaved head, typically covered by a beanie. Rung always offered to refer to her as Sen, but Chromedome seemed insistent on the nickname. She wore shaggy, ugly beige and orange sweaters under a lab coat with khakis, and, surprisingly, white and black Jordans.

Whirl finally seemed to click with the swim team captain. The two began laughing, and Whirl would show off how she has to charge her arms, then the captain lifted her Hawaiian shirt to show what were most likely some kind of fish bites.

“At least Riptide’s getting something out of this.” Another student, with a red cap and messy ginger hair, had her head in another’s lap.

“We’re not here for Riptide, she’s just our ride back to the sorority.” The other student, blonde ponytail and a green flannel, patted her companion’s head.

Lug, Anode, and Riptide. All names Rung had heard, but never put a face to.

Rung slowly parted from the mingling students, making his way over to Teebs, who lit up to see his friend.

“I wanted to ask you if you wanted to get a few drinks. I heard the news, real rough, huh?” Teebs placed an encouraging hand on Rung’s shoulder.

“I don’t drink. What news?” Rung quirked an eyebrow.

“About…. Doctor Froid. He’s teaching here now.” Teebs spoke softly.

Every nerve in Rung’s body fired at once.

“He’s WHAT?” The outburst was far more noticeable than Rung had intended, drawing heads and stares.

“Yeah, teaching a couple psychiatry classes… I’m sorry, did you not know?” Teebs was genuinely apologetic.

Rung lowered his head into his hands.

“Let’s go.”

Whirl watched him go, but before she could say anything, a tall man in fancy, purple dress, with billowing black hair, poked his head in the room. Without a word, she got up, and silently walked over to go with him. Things tended to be felt, rather than said between Whirl and the man who may as well be her legal guardian.

\--

 

“Sorry, what was that?” Teebs finally looked up from his phone.

Rung was at the bottom of the bottle, quite literally, and squinted at Teebs.

“I said he got me FIRED. He’s why I went to teach instead of practice.” Rung’s glasses were skewed on his face, “What kind of-’Ulterior motives’??? With my PATIENTS? And they’re just letting it go without asking-GAH!

Hell’s so interesting on your phone anyways?” Rung leaned over.

“Grindr.”

“What IS that?”

“It’s a gay dating app. See, you swipe through and-Holy shit that’s Ratchet.”

Rung gawked at the profile Teebs had landed on.

Yeah. It was Ratchet.

“...I thought… Arcee?” Rung stumbled. “Arlene Cee, teaching child development, I-... Ratchet’s-?”

“Arcee’s married, dude, to a woman.” Teebs said, “You didn’t know Ratch was gay? Literally how could you not know that?”

“I don’t know, I don’t-... Teagan, can we go home? My head hurts.” Rung rubbed his temples.

“Sure, I’ll drive.”

Nodding, Rung leaned on Teebs out of the bar as his surroundings began to smear and blur around him.

And then…

Nothing.

 

\--

 

_“Rung.”_

_Hazily, Rung looked up._

_His head lay on Ratchet’s chest._

_“May I?” He asked._

_Rung nodded, and Ratchet’s hand shifted slowly._

_Very slowly._

_Downwards, and downwards, until…_

 

Rung woke up in his bed, covered in sweat. His head throbbed in a tremendous hangover, and he sluggishly tossed himself out of bed to check his alarm clock. 1:13 AM.

He paced to the bathroom, threw back an Excedrin, paced back to his room, and retrieved his headphones.

ASMR had sounded very good at the time, but nothing he found seemed to calm him from whatever dream he had. He went through playlist by playlist of various women reading various scripts, but nothing seemed to ease him.

Rung knew why.

He wasn’t ready.

Not yet.


	2. Romanticism in a Modern Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyclonus invites Rung over to his house for dinner. They don't eat dinner.

“So, just say so and I’ll click it for you when you’re ready for the next slide.” Rung explained.

The two men, Rung and Cyclonus, stood at a laptop Rung was currently hooking up to a projector. Cyclonus seemed bashful, as he was unable to figure this out on his own. Being old as shit, of course Cyclonus had no idea how the thing worked, and he had a presentation to do.

Rung was very slightly more familiar with the technology, giving lectures quite more often than his geologist friend.

Students began to seat themselves, and Rung sat at standby while Cyclonus began his speech. He heard the door open and close. Probably a late student.

Rung focused his attention on the laptop, listening for his cue to change the slide. 

Shuffling at the desk, then a pregnant pause.

“Ahem.”

Rung looked over from Cyclonus’ laptop.

Hunched over the desk, papers in hand, stood a gangly, awkward looking man. Balding, graying, two glass beads swaying from a necklace, cracked blue glasses, and a presence like a decaying distant relative you hate to admit you wished would just keel over already. The smell of cigarettes seemed to be strong enough to reach those seated in the few front rows, a few students trying to discreetly cover their faces.

“...Froid.” was all Rung said.

“Rung.” was all Froid said.

Cyclonus continued talking, pacing and pointing to the slide currently displayed on the wall. Some students whispered to themselves, definitely nothing related to the lecture. 

“I’d  _ heard  _ you came about to teach here.” Froid began stuffing the papers he was there to fetch in his messenger bag.

“...Same about you.” Every part of Rung’s body was screaming fight or flight.

This was the man who’d ruined his life. This was the man who’d ruined him.

“Well, it is nice to see an old face.” Froid smiled insincerely, “And I sure hope, for your students sake…”

He wasn’t about to do this.

He wasn’t. Rung refused to believe that he was about to say what he thought he was.

“...That you’ve reevaluated your lifestyle choices to something a bit more…  _ palatable _ .”

He was.

Whispers halted mid sentence.

Cyclonus stopped talking. He gave Froid a once-over look, and walked over to the desk.

“Excuse me, Doctor. Is there a problem here?” He asked.

And here, Froid was faced with the singular most brooding, intimidating professor on campus. A fiery amber gaze that bordered on red, the voice of an action thriller star long passed, black nails that were  _ not _ done by his ‘daughter’, and a single braid in his long, black hair that  _ was _ . Feminine, frilly, purple and proud, he was not afraid of anything but God himself, and God wasn’t quite immediately present in that room.

Dr. Cyrill Tempest. The Cyclone, students called him, or nowadays, Cyclonus. Whirl thought it sounded better with the -us, ending, which spread as a trend pretty fast.

A man known for his intimidating aura, facing a man unknown for his cowardice, and one of them was very unhappy.

Froid stood to attention, gripping his bag close.

“...No, I was just greeting Dr. Rung here.” He stammered.

“Seems you’ve greeted him well enough.” Cyclonus refused to break eye contact, “You’ve gotten what you needed, haven’t you?”

A shudder broke Froid’s body, “Y-Yes. I’ll, uh, be going, Cy.” 

“That will be  _ Doctor Tempest  _ to you.” Cyclonus pointed to the door, where Froid hurriedly scurried out.

Then, Cyclonus turned back to the class as if nothing had happened, and began his last sentence again, still referring to the PowerPoint.

A tug on his sleeve brought his attention back. Rung kept his head down.

“...Can you do the rest on your own?”

“Yes, I just click the mouse, right?” Cyclonus didn’t seem to express much of anything at all.

“Exactly.” Rung turned, and with his head still hung, rushed out of the room.

He speedwalked until he found a darkened room, unlocked it, closed the door behind

him, and sank to his knees leaned against the wall.

Rungs chest heaved. He took his glasses off and set them on the ground before the 

tears could hit the lenses. 

_ This is ridiculous _ , he thought. What was he? A grown man crying alone in a classroom, that’s what. Part of him screamed; coping mechanisms, soothing techniques! The other half yelled back; you’re being hysterical, you’re too old for this!

It felt like an eternity, sitting wrestling with his thoughts before something broke the silence.

“Rung?”

He looked up.

A short, broad and muscular man stood over him with an air of concern. He wore a flu mask, a white baseball cap over graying hairs, a stained white tank with a blue jacket around his waist, and a tattooed arm.

Tailer Tempest, known as Tailgate for his particularly bad road rage habits. The notoriously pretty-boy husband of Cyclonus.

Rung jumped to attention, wiping his eyes and putting his glasses back on.

“Hi Tailgate, I was just...ah… I was just waiting out a small bit of sensory overload.” Rung stammered.

“You’ve been in here for 3 hours.” Tailgate quirked a brow.

“...Ah. Well, as these kids are saying, ‘sometimes it be like that’.” Rung smiled nervously.

Tailgate paused, then laughed, “You think I’m up to date with any of these ‘me-ems’? Whirl’s a  _ menace. _ The other day she was studying with her little friend Cassie, and they started repeating ‘You better watch out’, increasing steadily in pitch.”

“I suppose sometimes context is better left in the dark.” 

“Oh, right, Cy wanted to know if you’d like to come over for dinner!”

Rung shook his head, “No, that’s quite alright.”

“Oh… Uh, let me try that again.” Tailgate lowered his flu mask in a cheap attempt to freak him out with his facial scarring, “You’re gonna come over for dinner tonight.”

“Tailer, it’s really fine. You don’t have to-”

“Don’t make me tell Cy no, Rung. He gets really sad and then he won’t sing me to sleep tonight.” Tailgate clasped his hands together.

“...Goddamn your puppy dog eyes, alright, tell him I’ll come.” Rung laughed, running a hand through his thick hair.

Tailgate just smiled.

 

\---

 

The neighborhood was fairly high class. It was a far cry from Rung’s apartment complex, that much was certain. 

It was Whirl who opened the door for him, wearing cheapy (but comfy) leggings and an oversized Hollywood Undead tee, a small kitten in arm. The kitten was sound asleep. Whirl pointed at the kitten, moved her fingers to her lips for a moment, then made a mad dash for the staircase, slamming her bedroom door.

“WHIRL! Your father said no slamming the doors! You could break it!” Tailgate yelled after her from the couch, arising to greet Rung, “Hi Rung!”

Rung politely shook his hand in greeting, and Tailgate showed him to the dinner table, where Cyclonus was already waiting.

Whirl slid herself down the stairs rather than walking back down. There was a rather loud crash as a stair loosened her prosthetic leg, causing it to slip off and come banging down the stairwell with Whirl well behind it. She was wearing a different Hollywood Undead tee shirt this time.

“You like this band, hm?” Rung observed.

“We went to a concert over the summer and it SUCKED DICK! In an awesome way, because sucking dick is awesome!” Whirl beamed.

“LANGUAGE.” Tailgate warned.

“Please don’t mind her, Doctor.” Cyclonus walked over and placed a hand on Rung’s shoulder, “Her father is… a busy man, you see. I’ve known him since we were little. He entrusted my love and I to take care of her in his absence.”

“Do you have to explain that  _ every time  _ there’s guests?” Whirl pouted, reattaching her leg.

Cyclonus ignored the question, “There’s something I wish to discuss with Doctor Rung.”

“Alright!” Tailgate said, “Let’s sit down then and-”

“Privately.” 

Whirl was already off in her own world on her phone. Rung looked at Cyclonus, confused. Cyclonus took Rung’s hand, leading him up the stairs. He glanced at the hallway. All the doors were clean, except one, covered in various decals and a massive ‘radiation warning’ sign. That was probably Whirl’s, Rung supposed. They passed a family portrait of Cyclonus, Whirl, Tailgate, and a man he did not recognize. No mother. Rung decided not to ask.

He was led into a bedroom on the end, where Cyclonus closed the door behind him, and coaxed Rung to sit on the bed with him.

“Doctor, I failed to say this earlier, but I must tell you that you can find solace in me. My door, and my arms, are always open. There is no room for judgement, or hate, or malice here.” Cyclonus fell serious, giving Rung a stare that could tear holes in his very spirit, “What was his name… Froid? He doesn’t deserve his title as you do.”

“I don’t understand.” Rung shook his head softly, “I just don’t. You’re fairly-um… You’re… open about… things. Meanwhile, people like Froid hate you for being g-... proud, and…”

Cyclonus’ gaze softened, but he said nothing.

“..I can’t-I just can’t say it.”

“Not now?”

“Not now. Maybe someday, not now.”

“It’s Whirl.” Cyclonus said, “And Tailgate. They’re why I remain strong. It hurts more when it’s targeted at someone you love. Our relationship with  _ words _ , we retain the negative connotations more than the positive. You think a word, and a slurry of other words come hurtling after it.

Take Whirl, for example. Saying she was trans, and when she came home, she was in tears. I spoke with the proper people and had the children accosting her suspended. It took her over a year to even use that word to describe herself, but when she did, she said she never wanted to dance around with vocabulary again when one word sufficed. 

It’s okay, my Doctor. You don’t need to come out yet. But never invite fifty people to a ball in hopes one person will show up of their own accord.” 

Rung tried to find his words, but all that came out was more akin to a  _ sob _ . Cyclonus wrapped his arms around him, and remained that way for several minutes.

“Nightbeat.” Rung said suddenly, “We called him Nightbeat. He dropped me off at work one night, and he kissed me goodbye. Froid saw. He called our superiors, and within the week I was fired. They cited my male patients’ safety.

When he found out, he was devastated. Nightbeat felt so guilty about it that he-...”

“He did what, Doctor?”

“...He left. I never even  _ saw  _ him again. Last I heard, a few years ago he got married to a woman we were mutual friends with. Took me a while to get over that one.”

“We are not the sinners, Doctor, and God will treat Mr. Froid accordingly.” Cyclonus said, “...Whirl’s father, too. He’s not busy. He’s in prison. We tell people he’s busy because Whirl doesn’t like thinking about it.

But God provides, and in the end, he’ll never get away with it. He thinks he will. Froid thinks he will as well. God is coming to collect their debts.”

“Do you have to say everything so  _ romantically _ ? I thought you studied rocks, not Victorian literature.” Rung laughed.

Cyclonus, gingerly, took Rungs hand in his, brought it upwards, and laid a kiss on it.

“You’re safe here, Doctor. Never forget that.”

 

\---

 

“Oh, yeah, he just kinda does that sometimes.”

Tailgate was driving, Rung in the passenger seat. The car was incredibly well kept, as Rung had expected of a sanitation worker.

“So, you’re fine with the whole kissing my hand thing?”

“Oh, you know what he was doing?” Tailgate mused, “ _ Flirting _ . We established an open relationship, he was probably flirting.”

Rung was silent for the rest of the car ride.

When they pulled into the apartment complex, Rung thanked Tailgate, and got out.

“Oh, pet your cat for me. It’s very cute.” He added quickly.

“We don’t have a cat.” Tailgate paused after he said it aloud, and quickly turned on his phone, “Siri, Call Whirl.”

And with that, Tailgate drove off.

Rung rubbed his hand, already grieving Cyclonus’ touch. 

For a moment, he considered going to talk to Ratchet. What would they even talk about? Why would Ratchet  _ care _ ?

He wouldn’t, Rung assured himself, there’s no reason to get such  _ silly _ ideas.

That’s all it was, silly. Ratchet had his own things to worry about.

That night, all Rung dreamt about was Nightbeat.


	3. Making A Mess Anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gay Squad goes to the mall. [Fairly filler chapter]

What’s better than a group of rowdy college kids in a mall?

A group of rowdy college kids _ and Whirl. _

In the dining area, Nautica, Brainstorm, Skids, Riptide, and Whirl all sat, making an enormous ruckus, mostly coming from Whirl forcing Skids to read Scottish tweets aloud. As all members of the college’s GSA, they’d come together for an outing, and apparently did not account for the clash between Brainstorm and Whirl’s chaotic natures, Nautica’s introverted one, and Skids and Riptide’s ultimate dumbass energies. Instead of carefully picking out candies like a normal person, they’d grabbed a fistful, shoved it in their mouth wrapper and all, and then started scream-laughing over memes. You’d say metaphorically, but it was likely at least 3 of them had actually done that for real.

“‘Ey, totally random thought, but does Whirl know about the thing about Dr. Rung?” Skids interrupted a conversation about bees.

“Which thing-OH that he got shot in the head?” Brainstorm asked.

“HE WHAT?” Whirl’s head snapped over to Brainstorm.

“Not like, recently.” Nautica said, “It was a really long time ago. Well, allegedly. Rumors get muddled up when they pass around. There’s lots of rumors here. Like a senior-Ok, this one I actually can confirm happened, this senior named Thunders got really sick, and then he got better-”

“-And then at least five other students proposed to him when he came back.” Skids finished, slapping Nautica’s hand for a high five that she was not reciprocating.

“Ow.” said Nautica.

“I think Percy’s killed a man. I mean, I heard that from the drill sergeant lady that used to come to-” Brainstorm added.

“I wanna hear more about Rung getting shot.” Whirl said.

“Ok, fuck me then.” Brainstorm slouched back in his chair.

“You wish.” Skids nudged him, “Anyways, yeah. He got shot straight in the head-”

“ _ Allegedly. _ ” Nautica emphasized.

“-If you’ll allow me to finish, he got shot in the head and he was fine! Recovered totally.”

“Was it, like, grazing him? Or did he get shot like, here?” Whirl held a finger to her temple, “Or here?” then while pointing to her forehead, then a different spot on her forehead, then her other temple, and then Riptide took her hand and slowly put it back on the table to make her stop.

Skids just shrugged.

“Y’know how rumors tend to have a moral? Like ‘don’t mess with ghosts’, or ‘don’t go out at night alone’, or this time I guess ‘don’t get shot? ...I’m not going anywhere with this, actually.” Riptide avoided eye contact after her last sentence.

“Yo, shut up.” Whirl papped Riptide’s face, craning her neck over to look at something across the way, “Is that Dr. Froid?”

“Think so.” Nautica said.

_ “HEY FROID” _ Whirl suddenly yelled.

Across the dining hall, indeed, Froid stood with a taller, bulkier man with a seeing eye dog. He looked over.

_ “BITCH! HEY! YOUR NAME SOUNDS LIKE FREUD, WHO’S A BITCH, SO THAT MAKES YOU A BITCH!” _ Whirl kept yelling. 

Nautica slowly sunk to the floor, half hiding behind the table and motioning for Whirl to stop.

“Dude, you’re fucking killing Nautica.” Riptide elbowed Whirl.

_ “WHERE’D YOU GET THE BIG GUY? THE… THE FUCKING… BIG MEN FOR BITCHES STORE- _ Wait holy shit I think that’s my old principal.”

“Whirl, for the love of GOD,  _ why _ are you yelling at him?” Skids demanded.

“He’s a bitch. Aren’t you an atheist?”

“But WHY?”

“Ok, so, I wasn’t eavesdropping, yes I was, but that dickhead with my old principal Sunder-”

“His name is Sunder?” 

“-Rung came over to my house and he told Cy that Froid was a total homophobic asshole to him and-”

“His name is  _ Sunder? _ ”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Why is his nickname Sunder?”

“Look you absolute fucking nuthead, I don’t have an explanation for every single nickname in this town. Your name’s fucking  _ Skids, _ I never asked why. Basically everyone at school has a nickname. I don’t ask why.”

“Just kind of seems like an excuse to not tell us.”

A throat clearing drew the table’s attention to a woman in a security outfit standing over their table.

“You all need to leave.” She said.

 

\---

 

The group shuffled through the parking lot to Brainstorm’s old van silently. Skids finally looked towards Whirl, and opened his mouth. Whirl slapped her hand over to silence him.

“ _ BECAUSE,  _ he’s a total dick and he used to use the phrase ‘torn asunder’ really liberally.” Whirl finally explained, glaring holes into Skids.

“I was actually about to say, ‘Thanks for getting us kicked out’, but whatever boats your float.” Skids grabbed and lowered her hand.

“You said that wrong.” Brainstorm was starting the car.

“I know I said it wrong. It’s called a joke.” Skids sighed, “Whirl, why did you do that?”

“‘Cuz Froid’s a bitch.” Whirl answered.

“Rhetorical question.” Skids said as Whirl’s gaze slowly wandered elsewhere, “You got us kicked out, you embarrassed Nautica, you made fun of the way I said ‘out’ for about 4 minutes straight, and-for fucks sake, what are you looking at?”

Skids followed her gaze to the other end of the parking lot. Two figures in the distance and one shopping cart; one of them seated inside, and the other running at high speed pushing. The man pushing the cart had sloppy black hair and was wearing what looked like a bright pink jumpsuit. The one inside the cart was wearing a bicycle helmet and standard desert camo attire. They kept running for a good few seconds, before the man pushing let go and stumbled to the ground, letting the cart run down a fairly steep decline in the lot.

The cart continued, finally smashing into the side of a pick up truck and sending the man in the helmet skidding across the pavement. On the other side of the lot, a few other men leaned out of a large van, adorned with a crude graffiti of three seemingly random letters, and began cheering.

“The fuck.” Whirl said.

“Oh god, it’s the Scavengers.” Nautica groaned.

“The what?” Whirl tilted her head.

“Right, she lives a couple towns over.” Brainstorm said, “So, in one of the fraternities here, there’s this group of dudes we call the Scavengers. See that one in the helmet? That’s Fulcrum. They found him in a dumpster behind the Chili’s. Hence, Scavengers.”

Once Fulcrum found his footing, a very bulky, muscular man with a frosted mohawk emerged from the van and walked over, slung him around his shoulder, and walked back.

“Holy shit, was that Grimlock?” Whirl stared.

“They found him in a different dumpster.” Nautica explained, “And then he just kinda stuck with them.”

Not long after the Scavengers regrouped, still with the other students gawking, yet another security guard came out of the mall and began shouting.

“Oh my g-GET THE HELL OUT! YOU HAVE TO GO!” The new guard yelled.

The guard was tall, built well, and pretty pissed. Whirl watched his fiery display for a few moments before grinning.

“I know him. I know this guy.” Whirl pointed over at him.

“You’re gonna yell at him, a-” Riptide began.

“ _ HEY FORT MAX!” _ Whirl began waving frantically.

“Fort-ress Max-i-mus~ The biggest stickler in history~” Brainstorm sang, “Like it? It’s his new theme song. I made it up just now.”

Fort Max looked over with the approximate gaze of a lion long tortured by bandits, finally snapping for once in their life. His eyes met Whirl’s dead on.

“Ok, I shouldn’t have done that. We should leave, like, right now.” Whirl’s smile grew nervous, “ _ BYE FORT MAX! _ ”

They all clambered into Brainstorm’s car quickly, seatbelting at Nautica’s insistence. Once they were on the road, Nautica, in the passenger seat, turned to Whirl in back.

“Hey, I meant to ask… Why’d you buy that?” She motioned to Whirl’s bag.

“Oh god, ok.” Whirl pulled a green, angular plushie out of the bag, “Ok, my d-Cy loves this show, I know I hate it and I’ve established I hate it, but… Yeah. Peridot’s his favorite.”

“Makes sense. He is a geology professor.” Nautica shrugged it off.

Whirl looked her right on, lifted a hand, and made an elaborate gagging motion while squeezing the stuffed doll. Riptide burst into laughter.

Nautica paused for a moment before motioning to the bag once again, “Did they give you a flier?”

“Nah, probably Hot Cash.” She replied.

“No, man, that’s a flier.” Riptide picked up the bag, pulling out a fairly well put together paper.

_ THE FESTIVAL OF LOST LIGHT _ ; the flier read on top in rainbow WordArt.

“Oh, man, I loved this when I was a kid!” Riptide smiled, “You guys remember getting rainbows on your face at this thing? My sister threw up on the carousel once.”

Wordlessly, Whirl grabbed the flier and looked it up and down.

“I have an idea.” She said softly, “We need to bring Rung here.”

“Dr. Rung? You’re, like, obsessed with him.” Brainstorm laughed.

“Am not!” Whirl pouted, “I just… I dunno, I guess I… Nah, it’s stupid.”

“Nah, tell us.” Riptide leaned onto her.

“...I feel like he needs help. I feel like I need to help him.”

“Those are two different things.” Skids leaned in from the way back of the van towards Riptide and Whirl in the normal back seats, “Besides, he’s a grown man. What are  _ you _ gonna do?”

“My best, I guess.”

 


	4. For The First Time In Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whirl convinces Rung to attend the Festival of Lost Light

“Need I remind you, red means STOP?” Prowl slammed her hands on the front of Kup’s car, trying and failing to intimidate the veteran.

By the sidewalk that diverged into a local park, Kup had been pulled over while getting Rung to the college. She had run a light, and unfortunately for everyone in the vicinity, she was already painfully acquainted with the police officer on duty. 

Priscilla Prowler, known as Prowl. She mainly did speed traps in the suburbs and engaged in her favorite pastime; being about as useless as the entire institution she belonged to. Piercing blue eyes, long, white hair with a single red accent, built like a brick shithouse, and a glare like a snake that sees an eagle.

But she wasn’t alone. Artemis Chromia, shortened to just Chromia, was Prowl’s partner in law, former swordfighter and athlete. The slightly more competent of the two, she still operated like crime was a vague, omniscient presence in the world, like a one-off gag character made up in a standup bit. With an almost-buzz cut dyed blue, a toned, muscular frame, and tattoos under her uniform,Chromia stood tall, any lesbian’s wet butch dream.

Together, they were not unstoppable, but they were better than nothing. That being said, it still stood that  _ nothing _ was better than them. Nothing was  _ much _ better than them.

Chromia stood to the side with Rung, side eyeing her overzealous partner’s rambling. Neither were too happy about the situation, essentially being trapped in that moment until their respective cohorts shut the hell up.

“I don’t believe we’ve seen each other since the last time.” Chromia finally spoke.

“The last time?” Rung raised an eyebrow.

“You got sh-”

“RIGHT, yes, I got shot. Maximus was let free recently, yes?”

Chromia smiled, “Yep, went and got himself a job at the mall. I’d ask if you were worried about him hurting you again, but I believe ol’ ‘Hide told me you forgave and forgot.”

“No worries here.” Rung adjusted his glasses, “I do still have the scar, though.”

He lowered his head, parting his coarse black but graying hair to reveal a fairly intense mark in his scalp.

“DAMN! Haven’t seen one that bad since the missus got in a car accident. Glass straight to her abdomen.” Chromia laughed, resisting the urge to touch the scar.

“You’re married?” Rung went back to standing normally.

“6 years, so a little after your incident. Her name’s Windy. She’s a stay at home mom. I mean, it’s not our child, it’s a mutual friend’s. Bee got sick a bit ago so Windy took his 2 year old in. He’s a real sweet kid. Doesn’t know the difference between red and green.” Chromia explained.

“I remember Bee.” Rung mused, “Tell Windy to tell him I said hi.”

“I’ll remove a step there and tell him myself.”

“Chromia!” Prowl suddenly shouted, motioning towards the police car, “C’mon. I’m sick of this. 

“I hope it’s the plague. I hope you die.” Chromia said flatly.

“I’m taking you down with me if I do.” Prowl quipped.

 

\--

It was late afternoon now, and Rung dutifully filed and graded papers. No class that day, and he sat at his computer working.

Mere yards away, Whirl approached with a new friend. Tall, in a pink varsity jacket, and looking like he hadn’t showered in days.

“So how’d you get the name Misfire anyways?” Whirl poked his arm.

“With great stupidity, a live round, and a lot of alcohol.” Misfire replied.

“You guys, the Scavengers.” Whirl smiled, “You’re absolute hobgoblins. I love it.”

“There’s a perfectly good dumpster behind Olive Garden if you need us to ‘find’ you and take ya in.” He laughed, scruffing Whirl’s hair.

They turned the corner, finding themselves at Rung’s doorway.

“Ladies first.” 

“Ladies have class and self respect. I’m a feral cat, a bastard of the highest degree.” 

“Touché.” 

And so, Misfire went in first, nearly tripping on his own feet in the entryway, before collecting himself and standing aside for Whirl to enter.

Whirl said nothing as she ran in, shoving a flier in Rung’s face. Rung barely had half a second to react.

“You gotta come with us! The posse will make sure Bitchface won’t bother you!” Whirl beamed.

“Her posse, not mine, by the way. Huge difference. Mine’s usually a dealbreaker for anyone with any opinions at all.” Misfire added.

“Alright, for one, what is this, and two, who’s Bitchface?” Rung took the flier, removing it so it was no longer basically attached to his face.

“Froid.” 

“You could’ve said Froid.”

“No.”

Rung read for a moment, “The Festival of Lost Light?”

“Riptide says it’s awesome and that her sister threw up!” Whirl said.

“I didn’t need to know that.” Rung sighed, “Whirl, I can’t come with you. I’m almost positive if I do, I’ll end up forgetting some sort of obligation I have.”

“Figures.” Misfire huffed.

“Don’t be a dick.” Whirl poked him again.

“What? I’m just saying, he’s  _ old _ .” Misfire threw his hands up.

Rung placed the flier on his desk, shaking his head, “I appreciate your offer, but I have work to do, okay?”

Whirl’s face fell slightly. For once, she had a vague look of disappointment replacing her usual manic energy.

“AUGH- Don’t make that face! Jesus, puppy eyes much?” Misfire pulled her arm to get her attention, “Stop lookin’ all sad. Here, you wanted to meet Grimsy, right?”

“You’d let me meet him?” Whirl asked.

Misfire nodded, and Whirl perked up again, excitedly following her classmate out of the office.

“Er, tell Ms. Nickel and ‘The Division’ I said hello and-” Rung began as the door shut.

And just like that, Rung was alone again. 

His gaze fell to the flier still on his desk. 

Picking it up, he skimmed the smaller print he had neglected to read properly. He placed it back down, sighed, and unlocked his phone to begin typing;

_ ‘Ratchet, are you busy tonight?’ _

 

\--

 

The Mederi Foundation Park was bustling with people on their way to the festivities. Parents with children, students from the college, children without parents, and plenty of dogs owned by people who have never heard of training.

Under the shade of a large tree, a group of young adults from Knighton College were huddling around one of their own, watching the Switch in her hands intently. Chromedome, Riptide, Brainstorm, Whirl, and Nautica were all crouched around Rewind.

“Rewind. Rewind. Cassie. Shoot someone. Kill. Be free.” Whirl tried to poke the screen, but Rewind shoved her hand away.

“Can you give me five seconds? You don’t spawn with a gun.” Rewind griped, taking her eyes off the game, effectively dooming herself to be sniped from behind, “Cool. Look what you did, Whirl.”

“I didn’t do that. That dude who just killed you did that. Blame ‘Grumpybox’, not me.” Whirl had not learned her lesson about touching Rewind’s electronics, getting slapped away again.

“I can turn off the hotspot and let you disconnect and fuck your squad over.” Brainstorm piped up, holding the open app on his phone.

“You have Grindr open. That’s not the hot spot app.” Nautica chuckled.

Brainstorm stared blankly at his phone, quickly swiped to close it, and pulled up the actual program he’d meant to show off.

“You did that on purpose.” Chromedome exhaled.

“We got a mind reader, ladies. Suppress your thoughts of screwing a 15 ft robot.” Brainstorm was promptly punched in the arm by Chromedome.

“Don’t turn it off. I need to get in the zone. The gamer girl zone.” Rewind didn’t take her eyes off the screen.

“I can give you some advice.” Whirl said.

“You’re not a gamer girl.” Rewind giggled.

“I am  _ so _ a gamer girl!” Whirl protested, “I come from a long line of gamers. Cy plays Neopets all the time. I only have the most epic of gamer moments.”

“Ok first, you’re not even related to Cy. Second, say the phrase ‘epic gamer moments’ again and I’ll be legally within my right to strangle you.” Rewind pointed at her neck for emphasis.

“You wouldn’t be the first.” Whirl huffed, eyes wandering from the game, “Tell me when you git gud a-Oh my god.”

“What?” 

Whirl pointed across the park towards a beat up car being unloaded by two men.

“Dudes, Rung’s here.” A grin quickly graced Whirl’s face.

“Oh for the love of God. You didn’t actually invite him, did you?” Rewind rubbed her temples.

“He said he wasn’t coming!” Whirl finally shot up and started a mad dash towards the car.

“She is going to get that man in trouble, if she doesn’t get herself in trouble first.” Nautica sighed.

“I honestly never notice he’s even there until Whirl says something.” Brainstorm shrugged, “I dunno how she does it. He’s got the presence of a single blade of wheatgrass in a cornfield.”

“Oh, so we’re from the Midwest now?” Nautica teased.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever recognize that unholy land as it exists.” 

Rung barely had two seconds to react after noticing Whirl, stepping back as she skidded to a halt, just missed colliding with him. For a moment, he wondered if there was some kind of online course to teach him how to deal with incoming Whirls.

“You came!” She squealed.

“Er, yes, yes I did.” Rung smiled awkwardly.

From the back of the car, slinging a heavy backpack across his shoulder, Ratchet leaned over to observe what the hell that noise Whirl just made was. Closing the back door, he made his way over to Rung.

“Graceful as ever.” Ratchet grunted, “Is she bothering you, Rung?”

“Oh, no, no.” Rung waved a hand dismissively.

“You sure? You did get dragged to Cyril’s house.”

“Tailgate invited me, not Whirl.”

Whirl put her hands on her hips, “What, didya think I invited a grown man to my house of my own accord?”

“With your track record? I wouldn’t be surprised that you’d been harassing him.” Ratchet glanced at Rung.

“She’s not harassing me.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” With a sigh, Ratchet took out the keys and locked the car, “Did she have anything to do with your sudden desire to come here?”

“...Well, you see-” Rung began.

“He can make his own decisions, you know!” She pouted.

“So, that’s a yes?” He placed a hand on Rung’s shoulder, “I’m just kidding, you know I don’t mind at all.”

Rung sighed in relief. Whirl turned, called for Rewind, who passed the Switch to Chromedome, strained to reach her face and settled for just a kiss on the shoulder, made an empty threat about how mad she’d be if Chromedome damaged her system, and made her way over to Whirl and the two teachers.

“Rewind, you live in Knighton, right? You know all the cool shit at the festival.” Whirl asked.

Rewind stared for a moment, then buried her face in her hands.

“You did not just sign me up to be your chaperone.” She groaned.

“Oh, no. You should show Rung around.” Whirl replied.

“We live here too, you do realize that.” Ratchet crossed his arms, “I’ve been to the Festival of Lost Light.”

“I haven’t.” Rung added.

“He hasn’t. You don’t need to be our tour guides. You kids go off and throw up on a ride or something.” Ratchet placed a hand on Rung’s back and began urging him away towards the actual festivities. 

“Sooo, uh.” Whirl began as they left, “You wanna call me and check out my new ringtone?”

“Knowing you? No.”

 

\--

 

As the festival dragged on, Rung and Ratchet hopped to game stalls, went to the area to buy food, remembered they could get things to make funnel cakes literally anywhere else, and proceeded to leave for more games without buying shitty carnival food.

Both of them agreed that actually going on any rides was an immense waste of time and potentially dangerous. But before they could give up on the whole endeavour, they remembered the ferris wheel. It wasn’t an extraordinary one, hell, their apartment was higher in the air than it was, yet it seemed obvious that they experience acrophobia and an overwhelming worry that the car would give any second as it swayed in the wind. It made sense to them, and not so much for everyone else, who seemed that they’d rather actually feel like they’re a hair off of death, instead of a vague dread of it.

It seemed fine at first. They sat across from each other, making small talk as the wheel began to move.

Somewhere, some cosmic deity saw this, said ‘Well that won’t do’, and the wheel stopped with them dead at the top.

“I have an idea.” Ratchet said suddenly.

“What’s your idea?”

“I think ferris wheels might be a terrible idea.”

Rung blinked, then laughed. Ratchet laughed too. All the way up, they were in their own little bubble, and nothing else existed.

He felt something, sitting there with Ratchet. Not quite happiness. Not quite sorrow. Nothing could happen that would upset him, Rung thought. Not a single thing, he believed.

That feeling was best summed up as ‘okay’. A perfect equilibrium between depression and joy. Rung didn’t feel happy, but he wasn’t struggling to keep his head above water. The moment was far from perfect.

The foreign feeling consumed Rung, a ghost of something he’d lost long ago. 

He was okay.

Things were okay.

Not quite happiness.

Not quite sorrow.

By the time it was over, Rung was already feeling as if something was wrong again. Where had that feeling gone? Was it dead, along with the moment?

Ratchet stepped away for a moment to answer a call from Kup.

In the crowd, past rigged game after rigged game, Rung’s attention drew to a man standing against a tree, scrolling on his phone. By the time he registered the face, he was lost in a stormy ocean of human beings. 

It struck him deep in his chest, when he finally knew who he was looking at.

Nightbeat.

In a slurry of impulse, Rung tried to push through the people, going straight towards the tree. Tears welling, hands shaking in a knee-jerk reaction while memories flowed back.

Nightbeat.

He was pushed back, then to the side, then forwards, then backwards again, almost tripping over children waiting for their adrenaline rush for the day.

_ Nightbeat. _

The crowd broke apart as Rung stumbled forwards into a small clear area by the road, nearly falling to his knees.

“Nightbeat?” 

As he looked up, he realized.

Nobody was there. In the struggle through the festival attendees, Rung had lost his chance. Everything he wanted to say scurried through his mind, his body sinking down as if he wanted to be swallowed by the Earth right then and there. 

_ I’m sorry _

_ It wasn’t your fault _

_ Please don’t leave _

_ Why wouldn’t you speak to me _

_ I’m sorry _

_ I’m sorry _

_ I’m sorry _

He was alone, again. That part hurt the most; again, again, _ again _ .

“Rung?” A voice sounded behind him.

Ratchet had come after him. He lowered to the ground, placing a hand on Rung’s shoulder, “I think it’s about time I took you home.”

Rung had immediately forgotten about the serenity of the ferris wheel.

His feelings were no longer equal, more akin to stirring two solutions and watching it swirl.

Not happiness.

Absolutely sorrow.

Rung was not okay.

“It was Nightbeat. It really was.” Rung mumbled.

“Yeah, you’re gonna come to the car with me.”

 

\--

Rung was sitting on his bed, not moving, not sleeping, not feeling.

Ratchet opened the door, pausing, and walking over and leaning down to meet Rung’s height. He didn’t look up at Ratchet. Ratchet extended a hand and cupped Rung’s jawline, slowly tilting his head up so their eyes could meet.

Closing his eyes, Rung leaned into Ratchet’s touch, saying nothing. He finally looked up to Ratchet, misty-eyed.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to break down how to cope with trauma, that’s your job, not mine.” Ratchet sighed, finally sitting down besides Rung, “Never easy when the doctor becomes the patient. I don’t doubt that you saw her in that crowd.”

“Him.” 

Ratchet paused, looking blankly at Rung.

“...When you told me about Nightbeat, you said-” He began.

“This isn’t a conversation I want to have right now.” Rung spoke a bit more sharply than usual, “I lied. So what. The world’s not perfect, sometimes you have to lie to survive.”

Ratchet knew Rung well, but had never heard him speak with such edge. It was like looking at a reflection of his longtime friend through a broken mirror.

“Rung...” He sighed.

“Save the speech. Cyclonus already gave me one about this.”

No reply came. Ratchet turned his body towards Rung, tucking his long, white hair behind his ear so nothing interrupted him while sitting with his roommate. He sat silently for a moment, giving Rung a sympathetic look.

Then, Ratchet reached and laid his hand over Rung’s. He usually had a freakishly strong grip, but he touched Rung as if he were made of the finest gossamer.

“Neither of us have class tomorrow.” He said, “Let’s stay in, both of us. Kup can do whatever she damn well pleases, but in here it’ll just be you and me, ok?”

“Just us? I thought you were going to say we should go into the city.” Rung’s grief was masked by his confusion.

“And usually, yes, we would.” Ratchet smiled, “But this time, we should just be alone, right here.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re insisting on a day in.”

Ratchet sighed, shaking his head, “Two things. First of all, you don’t need to be out and about seeing things that reminds you of Nightbeat.”

Rung gave a half-nod. 

“And second of all…

When we’re alone, it’s easier to do this.”

And without an inkling of hesitation, Ratchet kissed Rung.


	5. Chase The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung isn't sure how he keeps ending up with Cyclonus tangled in his personal life.

 “So he kissed you.” 

“Yes.”

“And you, I quote, ‘got out of dodge’, and now you’re sitting in the park alone at 4 am.”

“...Yes.”

Cyclonus and Rung sat at a park bench, not quite making eye contact, but not quite avoiding it.

“What are  _ you  _ even doing out here this time of night? You don’t live in Knighton.” Rung asked.

“I think we should focus on your attention on the fact that, upon receiving affection,” Cyclonus paused as Rung winced, “You told Ratchet you needed to turn the oven off, and then let him watch you run out the door.”

Rung buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“You do realize that’s not a normal reaction.” Cyclonus sighed, “A kiss should not activate fight or flight.”

“I know that. Are you one to talk? Remember what you said about your first kiss with Tailgate?” Rung asked accusingly.

“...Yes. To be fair to myself, doctor, I wasn’t exactly expecting Whirl’s father to hurl a soda can at me. He’s like a dog, in a way, asserting dominance over a resource.” 

“If he’s a dog, he’s probably one of the little ones who think they own the world.”

“Precisely. He’s not the point here, however. The point is something’s wrong with you.”

Rung blinked, “Very encouraging.”

“...Alright, let me give that a second go. You have issues you aren’t taking care of.” Cyclonus clarified.

“You still haven’t told me why you were out yet.”

“Thought I’d give Whirl’s little one to a shelter. Tailgate is allergic to cats. The stars were not aligned in her favor. But they were closed.”

“It’s-Why did you not think they’d-Ok. That’s a solid reason I suppose,” Rung stumbled, “Where’s the cat now, then?” 

“I don’t understand your question. It’s right h-“ Cyclonus patted a smaller purse strewn on his shoulder and paused, “Ah. Maybe not. ...How about we walk you to your building? I’ll sort out the little one tomorrow.”

“I can’t go home, not after running from Ratchet like that.”

“Then I will call Tailgate. He’ll drive us to our house. Or we could walk.”

“I can’t walk that far. Is he still awake? He’s always seemed the type to sleep like the dead for millions of years.”

“Whirl has friends over. If he’s asleep during that, I’d call an ambulance. And, if we must walk, I can carry you.”

Rung laughed softly. Cyclonus didn’t.

“...Oh come on, I’m not _ that  _ skinny!”

 

\--

 

The open living room of Cyclonus’s house looked like someone had just detonated a bomb filled with bored young adults. Strewn without a care across the room, on their phones, asleep, talking shit about a children’s cartoon on the tv, they were all in different states of ‘fuck it’. At least, it was mostly students Rung knew. Whirl, Brainstorm, Chromedome, Rewind, and a young woman he didn’t recognize.

The girl was wearing a pink tank, revealing heart tattoos on her shoulder. A floofy puff of cotton candy pink hair, designer sunglasses (indoors, mind you), lipstick you could only tell was there because of how the light reflected, all these details hit Rung at once as she looked up from Rewind’s phone.

“Aw. Look what the horrible, satanic looking cat dragged in.” Whirl giggled, “You turn in Scraplet?”

“Are you talking about Cyclonus or me?” Rung asked.

Cyclonus nodded silently.

Whirl didn’t answer,  “Oh yeah,” she motioned to the unknown student, “Rung, Rosanna. Rosanna, Rung. She’s Rewind’s sister.”

“They’re helping me look at colleges!” Rosanna beamed.

“We’ll leave you be,” Cyclonus put a hand on Rung’s shoulder, “We’ll be around.”

“Holy shit. Cy _ does _ sound like-” Rosanna began.

“I KNOW, RIGHT? We watched Taken and I was like, ‘what. The. _FUCK’!”_ Whirl practically yelled.

“Is Rung ok? I know something that might help.” Brainstorm reached for his phone.

“If you ask this poor man to download Grindr again I am going to kick you in the dick.” Chromedome replied.

“Can’t kick what I don’t have!”

“Ok, let me try again. If you suggest Rung gets Grindr again I will make revolutionary strides in the medical field to make you grow a dick, then I’m gonna kick it.”

“Babe, no, it’ll only make him stronger and gayer. No force in heaven or hell could make him stop being obsessed with that app.” Rewind flicked Chromedome’s head.

“Is this all college kids do? Talk about kicking people in the dick?” Rosanna asked.

“Yeah.” Brainstorm, Chromedome, and Whirl replied in unison.

“I’ll leave you ladies and Brainstorm be, then.” Cyclonus began guiding Rung through to a second living room, to which Rung had forgotten that Cyclonus was loaded and could definitely afford two of those. Rung only had half of one merged with the kitchen and typically occupied by Kup.

“I don’t know how I keep ending up alone in a room with you.” Rung smiled nervously.

“Fate, perhaps?” Cyclonus moved his uncomfortable decorative pillows off the couch.

“As in you think God’s doing this, or as in you’ve been doing this on purpose?”

“I don’t think God does anything, my doctor,” Cyclonus urged him to sit, “If he did, the worst people that live under him would suffer. Like Dr. Froid, or Whirl’s father.”

“Yeah, and I also don’t know how we keep landing on the subject of her father.” Rung sat down, “Any particular reason you don’t refer to him by name?”

“A name denotes respect. He was, is a coward. He knew that his sins would catch up to him, so he did what he did best.”

“And what’s that?”

“He got away. But this isn’t about him.”

Cyclonus sat beside him, laying his hand limp over Rung’s. Rung could feel his face burning up.

“Cyril, I-“ Rung avoided eye contact, “I’m dealing with it.”

“You’re not. If you were, you would not have joined me here.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation again.” 

Cyclonus stood, and began to rummage through a drawer. From where Rung sat, it appeared to be entirely filled with rocks. He pulled a necklace out, a silver chain and a small, flat disc intricately detailed with swirls. Walking back over, he took Rung’s hand and placed it firmly into his palm.

“...Uh, what is this?” Rung couldn’t hide his sheer confusion.

“I’ve been having dreams, bad ones. Trouble is on its way, and this will ward it off.” Cyclonus explained, “Keep it close.”

“That does not explain a single thing.”

“I’m afraid the guest room is full of Whirl’s friends. I’ll clear them off the couch for you.” And again, he took Rung’s free hand.

“Are you cursed to speak in riddles and never explain yourself?” Rung asked.

“That’d certainly explain a lot.” Cyclonus looked back, and for once, his gaze felt warm.

That night, Tailgate caught Whirl attempting to stack bread on Rung’s face with Rewind as an accomplice.

Silently, he confiscated all the bread and locked it in the master bedroom in the same drawer as all the rocks. He would put it back early, before everyone awoke.

He would not mention that it was in the rock drawer.

 

-

 

Morning came, and a bustle of activity outside awoke Rung. The students from the night were gone, and in their place was the sound of children at play.

He nearly didn’t notice Cyclonus standing rigid to the side of the couch. Rung yelped and backed up.

“The Division is out.” Cyclonus said, as if that justified him standing silently like a suit of armor.

“They live nearby?”

“Yes. They’ve captured a traitor. I believe Tarn called the student ‘Flywheels.’”

A beat passed, before Rung found his glasses beside the couch, “I should probably go.”

“Oh, they’re not going to let you past. They didn’t let me out either.”

Rung leaned left to look out the window.

“You see, when the Division wants you down, they shall stop at nothing to do so.” Cyclonus began, opening the window, “Bloodthirsty. Ruthless.”

Cyclonus’ hair billowed dramatically in the wind that flowed into the room, and it would have been a beautiful monologue, if not for the fact that several yards away, in plain sight, Rung watched Tarn stab the babysitter with a fork.

It had never occurred to Rung that the Division not only lived nearby, but absolutely had access to cutlery. 

Tarn pulled the fork off Flywheels’ thigh. Every couple seconds, he had to adjust the marker-covered paper plate mask he wore. Rung had met Ms Nickel before, but not Tarn. It was immediately apparent that going back to 2nd grade filled him with pure, white-hot rage to channel into a very available coping mechanism; just fucking stabbing people.

“They seem occupied enough.” Rung spoke up over the drone of one of the Division loudly singing nonsense.

“VOS!! Our theme song sounds like THIS!” Tarn yelled before beginning to sing in an almost identical fashion.

“The Decepticon Justice Division finds you guilty of being dumb!” Kaon yells, throwing an acorn at the still-bleeding Flywheels, “You’ve be… bert… betra...YOU’RE DUMB!”

“...Should we do something? I’m fairly sure that he’d get in trouble if he defended himself.” Rung glanced to Cyclonus.

“I’ll walk you down to the car.” Cyclonus said, “Once the Division sets their eyes on a target, they won’t rest until blood is spilled. Or until Ms Nickel says it’s time to come inside.”

“I think they’ve-” Rung stopped as their sitter yelled as the fork was plunged into him once again, “-I think they’ve spilled quite enough blood. We should probably go take the fork from them.”

“It’s fine.” Cyclonus took Rung’s hand and began towards the front door.

“It’s really not.” Rung protested.

“It’s funny.”

“It’s  _ really not??? _ Christ, Cyclonus, what’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, plenty.”

 

\--   


 

Before Rung could unlock the door, Ratchet opened it. There was a moment of silence.

“Rung, I’m sorry th-” Ratchet cut off to catch Rung as he practically surrendered every muscle in his body to embrace Ratchet.

Cyclonus was still very much there, just barely in the doorframe. It took Ratchet a moment to see him.

“SHIT-!” Ratchet took a step back, startled.

“Yeah, he did that to me too.” 

Rung pulled away, and the two broke down in laughter. 

“IS THAT RUNG?” Kup called from further back inside, “TELL HIM WHAT I FOUND OUTSIDE!”

Ratchet rubbed his temples, “She found a cat.”

Rung blinked, and looked at Cyclonus.

“...Is it orange?” Cyclonus asked, “Small?”

“Um. Yes?” Ratchet glanced behind him.

Without a word, Cyclonus pushed past him, and walked towards Kup, sitting at the table (well, it was a counter, separating living room from kitchen), with a familiar kitten laying in front of her.

“I believe I’ll be taking that.” He did not wait for an answer as he took the cat.

“What, is this your cat or something?” Kup didn’t try to stop him.

“It is now.”

“Yeah, where we’re from, that’s called stealing.” Ratchet said as Cyclonus pushed past him once again, back into the hall.

“Good thing I come from elsewhere, then.” Cyclonus smiled.

“...It’s Whirl’s.” Rung leaned and whispered to Ratchet.

“Ohhhhh. Alright, that makes sense.”

With that, Cyclonus said goodbye and took his leave. He wasn’t gone for even 5 minutes before Rung remembered; the pendant. He pulled it out of his pocket, grabbing Ratchet’s attention. The moment it hit the air, the strong tang of iron arose.

“Did he give you that?” Ratchet asked, wrinkling his nose at the sudden, overwhelming iron-y smell.

“He said it’d protect me, or something.” Rung ran his thumb across the engravings of the wispy design.

“...Y’know, Drift gave me one of those too.” 

“Did he?”

“Yeah. Said it’d give me strength, whatever the hell that means.” Ratchet sighed, “I’m starting to think some jackass is selling them with some spiritual bullshit tale attached to them. Doesn’t explain why yours smells like death, though.”

Walking back into the apartment, Ratchet leaned onto the counter.

“Drift’s a little old to be falling for that.” Rung commented. Ratchet only nodded and rolled his eyes in response.

“Kup, do you mind?” He asked, “I want a couple minutes with Rung.”

“I don’t mind.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“I’m asking you to leave.”

“Oh! No.” 

Ratchet’s hand reached under the counter to pull out a wooden spoon. Rung put his hand out onto Ratchet’s, lowering it back down, shaking his head at him.

 

\--

 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I am very concerned about a fellow professor. It was best I come to you first.”

The headmaster didn’t respond. Didn’t even turn his head to acknowledge Froid. In comparison to his bulky frame, Froid nearly seemed a mere insect with a hunched composure. The man before him had aged like wine, and Froid had aged like a pack of Lunchables.

“It would seem he was fired previously for reasons unapparent, but I’ve been told it wasn’t something you’d want in proximity to the students.” Froid continued.

“And what makes you say that?” 

“Well, it’s quite obvious. Dr. Rung is endangering these children simply by-”

The headmaster had put a pencil into his pencil sharpener, and took it out when Froid stopped.

“...Dr Rung has a fairly inappropriate bond with W-”

The headmaster put the pencil back into the sharpener to cut off his sentence.

“Froid, either you get the hell out of my office, or I go through this entire drawer of pencils.” 

With that, Froid slunk out of the office, immediately greeted by his companion. Massive, muscular, and blind, Sunder was rarely seen without Froid these days.

“No luck?” Sunder turned his head to mime looking at Froid.

“...I think what we need is a confession. He’s built walls that would put Berlin to shame.” Froid wagged a boney finger, then took Sunder’s phone out of Sunder’s pocket.

“How are we going to do that?” Sunder didn’t notice the apparent theft.

“Simple. All Rung does is care. He cares, and he loves, and then he leaves himself behind in the dust. So, let’s say someone appears one day. Helps him up a little, gives a little care in return and open the floodgates. Then, we have our confession.” Froid smiled weakly under his air mask.

“What is he confessing to?”

Froid paused, and looked up to Sunder, “Anything and everything we can milk out of him.”

“Phrasing, Froid, phrasing.”

“A secret love affair with a student,” He ignored Sunder and began to ramble, “Breaching confidential documents, ANYTHING! Just get him in trouble, blacklisted, anything!”

“Froid?”

“Ugh-What?”

“...Why are you doing this?”

Froid stared blankly back. As soon as he realized Froid wasn’t going to reply, Sunder turned and started to make his way out of the building.

Froid felt something. Something heavy. Something that shattered every layer upon layer of hatred and narcissism, like an unholy abomination of a jawbreaker marketed as ‘DIY’.

“I don’t know.”

But it was too late.

Froid was alone.

The sinking, stinging feeling that you don’t understand yourself, he realized, is probably no different than what Rung was feeling. It felt like an ocean to overcome.

At last, he grabbed Sunder’s phone from his pocket and dialed Chromia with incredible speed.

“Hello? I just wanted to ask a quick question…

Do you know a man named Getaway?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldve made the title a reference to bitch came back by theory of a deadman so yall better be thankful i didnt

**Author's Note:**

> edit: if you saw the version of this where kup was male, i've changed them to a trans woman in dedication to my friend. if i missed correcting kup's pronouns anywhere tell me


End file.
